Ow would you like to be my beetch tonight?
by Mizuni-no-neko
Summary: AU in 1919 it isn't normal to be gay. Other than that, Gregory is a normal man. That is, until Christophe DeLorne moves in next door. Gregory/Christophe M for later chapters
1. Chapter 1

Ok! This is a challenge fic written for TezzX on Freedom of Speech.

The challenge was: #1. ZeM/Gregory. AU. The year is 1919. Gregory's life in England gets turned upside down, when his next door neighbor moves in.

I am issuing my own challenges!

#1: Damien/Pip Damien feels horrible for doing what he did to Pip, so he goes and visits him in the hospital. "What he did" is not limited to torching him in the 3rd grade. Interpret it how you will.

#2: Butters/Kenny Kenny and butters have a date, but Butters is grounded.

Ok on with that ficcage!

~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~

Gregory was a normal man. He lived in London, wasn't high society but wasn't poor, he was polite and courteous to women, and he enjoyed a drink with the occasional game of cards, he was generous to the homeless and the French refugees…

And he was homosexual. While this may not have been a normal trait, it had never been a problem before. He would act as any English gentleman would in the company of others and have his fun in the privacy of his own home. He thought it would always be as easy as that.

Until _he_ moved in next door.

Christophe Delorne was not like the other French who had infested London and the surrounding areas after the Germans had invaded. He and his ailing mother (referred to by Christophe as "zat beetch") had moved to London after the war had already ended so that the Frenchman could attend a local University. They were well off enough that they could buy a house in a slightly affluent neighborhood without worrying about being in debt.

And Christophe had propositioned him.

Gregory had been minding his own business, walking down the street to the local pub, when he heard that life-changing shout.

"You! Breeteesh Beetch 'o leeves next door! 'Ow would you like to be my beetch tonight!" Gregory had paled and spun around.

"How dare you! I should gut you like a fish and pull your leg off like the vile frog you are!" Little did the gathering crowd know that his rage had nothing to do with Christophe's blatant accusation of his homosexuality, and everything to do with the fact that Gregory would like nothing more than to crawl into the handsome Frenchman's bed.

His chiseled jaw, strong shoulders, easy grace, and predatory smirk sent shivers of delight up Gregory's spine. His voice was like liquid gold the way the words dripped off of his tongue in accented English.

Yes, Gregory would bed this man eagerly if he wasn't his next door neighbor. As it was he simply turned on his heel and stalked off to the pub.

~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~

Gregory had done something he hardly even did. He got roaringly drunk and staggered home singing Irish drinking songs in an obviously fake brogue, bandged on Christophe's door in the middle of the night, and tackled him immediately after the door opened.

"I would like very much to be your beetch, Christophe!" He said in a faked French accent, giggling madly. Christophe smirked and dragged the drunken blonde into the house. As soon as the door was shut, Gregory started sucking on Christophe's neck.

"Eef I was not such a kind man, you would be skirting danger, _mon ami_." The last two words where a hot whisper in Gregory's ear, sending shivers down his spine and causing him to moan into Christophe's pulse point.

"Maybe I like danger, _mon cher._" He replied, biting the Frenchman lightly.

"Maybe when you are sober we can continue the conversation, non? You need to geet 'home." Christophe pushed the blonde lightly off of him and dragged him by his wrist all the way back home.

Once inside, the taller man shoved the brit into the wall and kissed him passionately on the lips. "Come to me again when you're sober, mon ami." He said, gone before Gregory's ale and lust clouded mind could comprehend what had just happened.

The kiss seemed to have sobered him up just a bit, because he smirked and set out the water and aspirin for the hangover he was sure to have tomorrow.

He couldn't bed his new lover with a pounding headache, now could he?


	2. Chapter 2

Woot! Chapter 2!! Pointless smut FTW!! I would like to point out once more that, while the plot is semi-original, the general idea is from a challenge posted on Freedom of Speech by TezzX

~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~

Gregory winced as the sunlight streamed through the curtains and onto his face. "Goddamn sun! Why's it have to be so bloody bright? 'S too early." He rolled back over and covered his head with a pillow.

"What did I _do_ last night?" He asked himself aloud. Throwing off the pillow, he looked around the room for clues. He gratefully swallowed the aspirin on the nightstand and snatched the note that lay beside it.

_Dear Self,_

_Seduce Christophe when you're sober._

_Much thanks,_

_Gregory._

Gregory smirked and set the letter down on the stand. When this headache faded, he knew exactly where he would be going. He threw open the curtains to what he hoped was a beautiful day and winced as sunlight struck his face.

Irony was a bitch.

~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~

Christophe smirked as he dressed for the day, picking his close for ease of undressing in hopes that the pretty blonde man would remember last night.

The knock came as he was doing up the last button on his shirt. He chuckled and reclined on the doorframe, opening the door as he did so.

"'Ello Gregory, what breengs you 'ere." He teased the blonde, knowing full well why the other man was here.

"Can I not call on my neighbor's ailing mother with flowers?" He smirked, brandishing a bouquet of daffodils. Christophe ushered him in and closed the door behind him.

"The flowers really are for your mother, how is she?" The brit asked politely.

"She ees a beetch, as always, but she ees doing better." He said, taking the flowers and setting them in a vase.

"That's good to hea-" Whatever Gregory had been saying was lost as Christophe smashed their lips together in a passionate kiss. Gregory moaned and kissed back, eager for more contact.

The taller man lifted Gregory up, allowing the blonde to wrap his legs around his waist, and carried him to the bedroom.

Halfway there he pulled away from Gregory's face to latch onto his neck. Gregory groaned and bucked into the Frenchman.

"Eager beetch, aren't we?" Christophe chuckled, biting Gregory's collar bone. Gregory growled and shoved Christophe's head away from his neck, launching his own assault on the man's lips.

Christophe smirked into the kiss and threw the blonde onto the bed, a predatory light coming into his eyes as he undressed quickly. He crawled onto the bed, caressing the blonde beneath him as he went. Licking the shell of his ear, he started on the brit's shirt slowly.

"Hurry up, you bloody frog!" Gregory ground out, frustrated and impatient.

"Non, _mon cher_, I think zat you will enjoy zees." He chuckled as he slipped the unbuttoned shirt off of the man's pale form tantalizingly slow, brushing his fingers across milky white skin slowly.

Gregory gasped and arched into the touches, wanting more. Christophe placed butterfly kisses against every inch of skin as he exposed it. " 'As anyone ever told you zat you are beautiful, _mon cher_?" He whispered hotly into the smaller man's ear. Gregory couldn't even comprehend the question, seeing as Christophe had just taken one dusky nipple into his mouth.

"A-ah!" He gasped, hands flying to the back of his lover's head. The brunet nipped at the nub in his mouth playfully before moving to the next one, giving it the same treatment. Biting it gently, he abandoned it to lick and bite a trail down the middle of the blonde's torso, stopping at the waist of his trousers.

Christophe unbuttoned the other man's pants and hooked his fingers into the waistband. He slid the pants down Gregory's hips torturously slow, nipping at the blonde's hip bone as the cloth passed over it. He brought his undergarments with them. When Gregory's legs were finally free of the trousers, the brunet flung them into some far corner of the bed chamber.

Christophe licked his lips and eyed Gregory's member like a cat watching a mouse. It sent shivers up and down the blonde's back.

"Are you going to sit there all day staring, or should I make a spot of tea?" Gregory asked teasingly.

"Gregory, you are a little beetch." Chrstophe said, kissing the spot on his hip just shy of his erection.

"N-no more that m-most I suppose." Gregory bit out.

"Gregory, you are ze beegest beetch of them all." Cristophe chuckled, taking Gregory into his mouth and humming.

"Fucking c-christ! God, Christophe!" Gregory gasped, trying his hardest not to buck wantonly into that heavenly mouth. He whimpered when the other man removed himself.

"Do _not_ put my name in ze same sentence as zat of your faggot god!" Christophe growled before going back to devouring the brit.

"Right, won't make the s-same m-mistake again." He panted.

Sometime between the _things_ Christophe was doing to him and now, the Frenchie had slipped a finger into his bum, preparing him for what was to come.

"Nghhh, _Christophe_." He moaned as the finger brushed something inside of him. The brunet responded by adding another finger. It took all of Gregory's will power not to grind himself down onto those fingers. Suddenly there were three and Gregory was bucking and moaning like a wanton whore.

Then, as soon as they had appeared, the were gone; replaced by something much larger prodding at Gregory's entrance.

"_Please_." The blonde begged, arching into the taller man. "Just do it, _mon amour_."

Something in the brunet snapped when Gregory said that. He buried himself up to the hilt in the lusty blonde, silencing his lover's screams of pain and pleasure with his lips.

Gregory bucked and arched desperately as Christophe drove into him hard and fast, hitting his prostate every time.

He couldn't take it anymore, the friction from the taller mans body on his erection and the continuous thrusts drove him over the edge.

Christophe came inside of him and they both rode out their orgasms.

Panting, Christophe pulled out of Gregory. He collapsed on top of him and rolling to the side, pulling Gregory with him. The brit laid his head in the dip in the brunet's shoulder and snuggled closer to his lover.

"Je t'aime, mon amour." Christophe whispered sleepily.

"Je t'aime aussi." Gregory replied before drifting off to sleep.

~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~

Woohoo! Sometimes I amaze myself…not really . I'm not that conceited. Overall I'd say that this was…d'accord. Lol

I'm not sure if I should end it here or not…I've met all the requirements and bonus points for the challenge…what d'you guys think?


	3. Chapter 3

This is basically a filler chapter while I decide where I want to go with this story. Suggestions are appreciated!! Also, a typo/ mistake has come to my attention. I had Gregory calling Christophe mon cher when really it should be mon cheri…I think .

~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~

Gregory groaned as he forced his eyes open. He tried to sit up in bed, only to be stopped by an arm over his midsection. Now that was odd. He looked down at the tan, muscular Frenchman slung over his waist. He sighed in contentment and abandoned all attempt to get up, cuddling into his side instead.

Christophe's eyes fluttered open and the first thing he saw was blonde hair right under his nose. He smiled and wrapped his arms tighter around the Brit in his arms.

"Good morning, love." Gregory sighed happily when he realized that his lover was awake.

"Bon matin, mon amour." Christophe mumbled into the warm blonde hair tickling his face.

Gregory kissed the warm skin of Christophe's chest, humming contentedly. He had been thoroughly fucked by a French sex god and now had said god in bed with him, not rushing home to a wife and children.

"You haven't been hiding a family back in France, have you?" Gregory asked jokingly, as if any woman would put up with him.

"Yes, I 'ave a beautiful wife an zree wonderful children." Christophe scoffed. "Non, I 'ate women. Eet probably 'as somezing to do weez my muzzer. Et toi? Do you have a lovely and socially acceptable wife waiting een some country 'ouse while you 'ave your fun een ze city?" He teased.

"No, girly bits disgust me." He said frankly. The only vagina he'd ever been in was when he was born, and he would like to keep it that way.

"Good, I would not share you. Not even weez a woman." Christophe growled, nipping at Gregory's earlobe.

"Not that my mother hasn't tried, the poor dear. She thinks I'm just stubbornly holding onto bachelorhood." Gregory sighed dramatically.

"My muzzer learned long ago _exactly_ why I do not pursue women." Christophe said, winking at him suggestively. Gregory scowled.

"You don't pursue men anymore either." He told him firmly. He was about as keen on sharing as Christophe. It wasn't often you found an unattached, attractive man that was both gay and willing to commit to more than a quick lay here and there. Not to mention that Christophe made his insides melt.

"Non, I pursue none but you." He assured him, nuzzling his hair affectionately.

"Good, keep it that way." He pouted, kissing the Frenchman's lips sweetly. Christophe couldn't keep it chaste for long, slipping his tongue into the blonde's pretty pink mouth.

Gregory moaned and ran his hands up Christophe's chest to rest on his shoulders, eyes fluttering closed. When they broke apart for air, he pushed the man away. "Not right now, we're still sticky and we both have morning breath." He told him, kissing him lightly once more before getting out of bed.

"I weel 'ave ze maid draw a bath." Christophe said, putting on a dressing gown and going into another room. Soon there was nice, warm water in the tub in Christophe's bathroom. How the maid got it so fast was beyond him, but it was nice.

Christophe let the robe fall to the floor, getting into the tub and making room between his legs for Gregory. The blonde settled down in the warm water, wrapping his arms around Christophe's neck and kissing him as he allowed the warmth to relax his tense muscles.

Christophe took a washcloth and began cleaning up the mess they had made last night, scrubbing the evidence of their tryst from their bodies. He rubbed the cloth over Gregory's member slyly, smirking when it earned him a low moan.

"Christophe! Don't!" Gregory gasped as the dark-haired Frenchman stroked him with the cloth in his hand.

Christophe nipped at his earlobe, not stopping in his ministrations for a second. Gregory couldn't help himself, he moaned and bucked into the skilled hand on his shaft.

Christophe grinned wickedly and stopped what he was doing, getting out of the tub and retrieving a towel. "You are right, mon amour, now ees not ze time and 'ere ees not ze place." He said, swaggering out of the bathroom teasingly.

Gregory practically screamed in frustration. He thought of everything to get his problem to go away. Thinking of childbirth is what finally did it.

He smirked and sashayed out into the bedroom, completely nude. He swayed his hips as he walked, bending down slowly to give the brunet a good look at his ass as he retrieved his clothes. He could feel Christophe's intense gaze boring holes into him and it sent shivers down his spine.

"Well, I guess I'll be off now. Can't spend too much time here or they'll think we're lovers!" He said jokingly. He dressed quickly and left, knowing he had left the French god in quite a state. Oh, he was evil. But the bastard started it!

~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~

Christophe growled as the pretty blonde sashayed out of his house and back to his own. The damn little minx wanted to play like that? Two could play at that game! He completely ignored the fact that he had been playing before Gregory and started devising a plan to get the little tease back.

He grinned wickedly as he thought about the blonde, about bedding him again. The man was a good lay, and someone he could talk to and love as well. He was intelligent and untaken, perfect really. It was no wonder Christophe was so attracted to the beautiful blonde Brit.

He was an exquisite specimen, lean and lithe with taut muscles, perfect golden hair, milk and coffee colored eyes, and a pouty-pink mouth that practically begged to be plundered. Oh yes, he would enjoy having this man as his lover.

But first, he needed some food and a plan. You couldn't seduce such a fine beauty on an empty stomach and with an equally empty head. No, he would need all his wits and strength to best a man so passionate and clever.

~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~*'*~.~

Ok! I have no clue where I want this to go! Unless you count some half-formed idea involving random women being pushed on Gregory by his mother and possibly a marriage of convenience.


	4. Chapter 4

Oh! And the reason why Gregory's last name isn't Thorne in this is because that's the last name I usually use for Damien, and that would be weird. I saw someone use this name for Gregory in a fic. I can't remember who it was, but it seemed to fit Gregory a lot better than Thorne ever did. So if you read this and I got the name from your fic, tell me and I'll either give you credit or change it depending on what you want me to do.

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

When Gregory got home, his mother was there. She was standing with her hands on her hips, looking furious. "Gregory, what is this?" She asked, her voice dangerously soft and low. "Why is your home so messy? What you need is a wife who will clean and cook for you."

"Mother, I don't need a wife." He said, exasperated.

"Your father and I are worried about you! Are you eating healthy? Probably not! With no one to cook for you you're probably living off of bread and cheese!"

"Mother, I can cook for myself!" He said, getting very irritated.

"What self-respecting man cooks for himself!?" She asked, trying to change her tactics.

"One who has to, Mother." He said, sighing.

"But, Darling, I've met the most wonderful girl! She's of good breeding and would make a good wife for you!" She pleaded.

"Mother, please. I really don't want to get married."

"But dear, you haven't even _met_ the girl yet. At least talk with her?"

Gregory sighed. His mother was pestering him to meet some girl (wasn't her name Beatrice?) and it was beginning to annoy him. "Alright, fine. I'll talk with her."

His mother beamed and walked over to the telephone. There weren't very many personal telephones in London after the war, so if this Beatrice girl has one then she must have been at least somewhat important.

"Hello, Amelia? This is Anne. Yes, I'm calling about that. No, I don't care if she says she doesn't want a husband. Yes, Gregory is just dying to meet her. Yes, send her over. Goodbye. Yes you too. Goodbye." Anne Carmichael hung up the phone

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

A knock came at the door, and Mrs. Carmichael immediately went to answer it. At the threshold stood a somewhat short but pretty woman. Her short brown hair reached only just above her neck, and her almond-shaped jade-green eyes sparkled with something Gregory couldn't quite discern. She reminded him faintly of Christophe. Maybe it was the self-assured air that seemed to surround her like a personal aura. It was probably the dark looking scowl.

"Welcome, Beatrice, welcome, can I get you anything?"

"Uh, let's just have dinner, shall we?" Gregory butted in. He really didn't want to talk to her just yet. It would be like all the other women, and he would eventually just make his lack of interest known like always.

"Oh yes! Let's eat so I can leave." The girl supplied, sneering.

"Oh, you two! So rude!" Gregory's mother huffed, leading the two into the dining room.

"So…what is it you do, Gregory." She asked, trying to make small talk but just seeming awkward.

"Our family owns a small bakery, which I help my parents run." He said, eyeing her warily. Hopefully she would be disappointed at the lack of income and drop him as a potential suitor. Unfortunately, her eyes seemed to snap as she sprung to life.

"Really? How interesting. I've loved to bake since I was a small girl, I've even won quite a few contests at various fairs for my pies." She said, smiling brightly and looking off into the distance like she was recalling a dream.

"That's fascinating." Gregory said, sounding utterly bored. He studied his nails and rested his head on the other hand.

She ignored his disinterest as she stared out into space, reflecting over something far, far away. They spent the entire dinner like that, no one but his mother saying anything. Every once in a while someone would reply to something she said, but mostly she was chattering on in a long, ignored monologue.

Gregory excused himself when he was done and went out to the porch to smoke. He disliked smoking in the den and it was impolite to smoke around women.

"You cannot even smoke een your own 'ouse?" A deep, rumbling voice teased from the darkness.

"It's impolite to smoke around women, but you would no nothing of manners you big brute." The slim blonde chuckled.

"And what women are een zere?" He asked, growling slightly.

"My mother and some girl she's trying to pawn off on me. Beatrice or something, reminds me a bit of you." He laughed.

"Do not compare me to a woman, mon amour." He scowled, stepping into the light. He looked intense, angry, and extremely sexy.

"I will compare you to anyone and anything I want." Gregory challenged.

Christophe took the bait, stepping towards him so they were chest to chest. He towered over the slight Brit, looking down on him as the blonde looked up through his thick lashes coyly.

"Do not test me, beetch." He growled, making Gregory shudder in desire. Christophe was like sex on legs to Gregory, such a temptation so near to people who could ruin him if they found out was not good.

"Not here, love. We'll meet later, at your house." He said, putting his hands on Christophe's chest and kissing him before pushing him away.

"Unteel next we meet." He agreed, pulling Gregory to him with one arm around his waist and the other at the back of his head. He kissed him deeply and passionately, delving his tongue in to plunder the blonde's pretty pink mouth as he felt him melt into the kiss.

What seemed like an eternity after, Gregory broke the kiss. His lips were puffy, bruised, and slightly parted and he was breathing heavily. Before he had a chance to say anything to the mysterious and sexy Frenchman, he was gone into the night.

"Who was that?" A female voice asked from the door way. Gregory paled and turned around to face Beatrice. She and Christophe really were similar. They even snuck up on his the same way.

"So…"

Gregory looked over, "Oh, are you staying the night?" He asked, trying to sound casual.

"No. I just want to clarify something." She looked at him hard. "You have a lover?"

He paled even further. "Uh…it…it wasn't like that, just…"

She raised an eyebrow. "You two were kissing for at least two minutes."

_Oh bullocks… _He thought, "Uh…well, um-"

"Just hold on one minute," she interrupted, "I hardly give a damn about your sexuality." He was about to say something when she shushed him with a finger. "I don't even _want_ a husband. I don't like men, not like that."

"Wait, so…you're…attracted to women?" He asked, incredulous.

"Yes. And if you can cover for me, then I will cover for you. We'll marry to appease our parents, and then go off and do our own things."

"And if they expect a child?" He asked skeptically.

"We'll tell them we're trying, but I'm barren." She shrugged. "I really don't want you anywhere near me sexually, and I'm sure you feel the same." She shuddered in disgust at the prospect of sex with a man.

"Fine, but you realize they'll expect us to at least act like a married couple in public. Not only that, but we'd be expected to at least pretend to sleep in the same room." He pointed out.

"A lot of married couple sleep in separate rooms and only share a bed for reasons we will not need to worry about." She retorted.

"Fine, but please don't bring your lovers home." He said, grimacing.

"Fine, I wasn't going to. I really don't care if you bring the Frenchman home, but please be quiet if I'm home." She agreed.

"I will not bring him to our house if you are there. That would be disgusting and disturbing." He gagged.

"Fine, it's settled then. We'll court for a while, and then you will propose. We'll marry and that will be the end of it." She said, nodding.

"Agreed. Now I just have to figure out how to tell Christophe." He groaned.

"You think your Frenchie is bad, try my Mary. She'll redheaded Irish." She giggled.

"I do not envy you, although Chris can be very intimidating." He giggled.

"Oh well, I'll be going now. Make sure to convince your mother you actually want to pursue me or no one will ever buy it." She reminded.

"I think my mother would believe me if I said I wanted to pursue a platypus at this point, she's so desperate to see me married." He laughed. He could get along with this woman, which would certainly help towards them being housemates.

He saw her to her automobile, one of the few he had seen in London since the war. He waved at her as she left, stopping and going inside once she was gone.

"So, how did you like Beatrice?" His mother asked, somewhat desperate.

"Actually, I liked her just fine. She's a very pleasant girl. I believe I might ask her father his permission to court her." He said with a bright smile.

His mother's eyes filled up with happy tears and she pulled him into a tight hug. "Oh, dearest! That's wonderful!" She sobbed, clutching him close.

"Mother! You're embarrassing yourself!" He cried, flustered.

"I'm just so happy! I thought you'd never marry!" She blubbered.

"Yes, I know mother." He said, patting her back and disengaging himself from his sobbing mother. He saw her to her carriage and waved her off much like he had Beatrice. He went up to his room and collapsed onto the bed.

What was he going to tell Christophe?

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

Thanks so much to Amethyst DragonRider!! She wrote a good part of this for me! I friggin love her!! Dude, seriously! If you look at a big part of our stuff from the last like…half a month…you notice that we've been helping eachother out like BIGTIME!!

XD

She's so awesome XD


	5. Chapter 5

DON'T KILL ME FOR THE LATENESS!!! For moths I would open the first part of this chapter (Written by Amethyst Dragon Rider ^-^) and just stare at it blankly, not sure exactly how Christophe should react or what they would do next. But I think I've done rather well given that I'm under the pressure of boredom and the fact that I won't have internet until tomorrow when I get this and all the rest of the stuff I've written to relieve my boredom posted.

Thanks for all of you who are still following this and who have waited so long and so patiently for this next crappy installment in what I hope is a marginally less crappy sum of its crappy parts.

* * *

Gregory Carmichael didn't have a clue as to how he was going to tell Christophe about his predicament. Hell, he didn't even know _what_ to tell him. "Oh, hello love. I'm getting married. I hope you aren't angry with me!"

Yeah right. But if not that, then what? He just hoped he would know when he got there.

Not that he'd left yet. He'd been too afraid of what his lover might say to so much as leave his chair. What if Christophe was angry with him? What if he _left_? He shuddered at the thought. Would Christophe even hear the whole story? Maybe if he did, then he would understand. Then again...

Maybe not.

_Oh bullocks..._ He sighed and got up, grabbing his jacket. He was going to Hell anyway, he might as well get it over with. He made his way over to the Frenchman's house, fidgeting and nervous. His hand was poised over the door to knock just as Christophe opened the door.

"I saw you from ze weendow. You look as eef you 'ave seen a ghost. What ees wrong, mon amour?" He asked, ushering Gregory into the house and leading him to the sofa.

Gregory sat down gratefully head sinking into his hands as he realized just how much he didn't want to tell Christophe. Not because he particularly liked lying to his lover, nor that he didn't want Christophe to know, just that he didn't really want to be here when he found out.

"Christophe, I'm so sorry…" He began, choking up a bit. It hadn't hit home to him until now that the news might actually hurt the other. The last thing on earth he wanted to do was hurt the man he loved.

"What do you 'ave to be sorry for?" He asked warily, not quite trusting Gregory's guilty tone. A thousand scenarios ran through his head, each more painful than the last.

"I…I'm getting married." He managed to choke out, face buried in his hands.

Christophe was shocked to say the least. He tensed up, every muscle frozen and locked in place. When he finally managed to unstuck his jaw, he said the last thing he thought he would say. No cursing, no violence, no anger.

"So you want to end eet." Was all he said. It seemed so simple, even though both of them felt their worlds collapse at those words. Just to end the pain in his heart those words brought, Gregory spoke up quickly.

"Oh no! Nothing like that!" He assured him quickly. "You see, my intended is a surly brooding woman…reminds me somewhat of you, actually." He said with a fond smile at the man sitting across from him. "Quite pretty, but completely useless to me. Not only am I quite uninterested in her, but she is quite uninterested in me as well."

This confused Christophe greatly. Why would he be marrying a woman out of sheer mutual disinterest? "I understand why you are not eenterested, but why ees she not?" was all he could think to ask to remedy his confusion.

"Quite simple, really. Let's just say she knows more about pleasing a woman than you or I would ever care to know." Gregory chuckled as he watched Christophe's eyes widen in understanding.

"You are marrying a lesbian?" He asked, looking at Gregory as if he were crazy.

"Mutual protection, love. She's free to chase skirts and I am free to warm your bed. We've agreed not to bring home our respective lovers unless the other is out of the house out of respect for the other and neither of us will be the slight bit hurt knowing the other is unfaithful. And the best part is that we don't have to consummate." Gregory said, seeming quite proud of himself, despite the face that it had been Beatrice's idea.

Christophe nodded slowly, surprising Gregory with his calm demeanor. He was about to assume he was home free when it suddenly all exploded in his face.

"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND!?" Christophe roared, knocking over the coffee table as he stood abruptly. "Eet weel never work! Women are greedy beetches! Not only weel she spend all your money, she weel eventually try to control you. Zey are jealous 'arpies 'oo cannot stand to see anyone 'ave anyzeeng zey do not." He growled.

"Christophe, darling, be reasonable. For one, she doesn't want me! Second of all, she has her own money. Third of all, she really is a sweet girl once you get past her scowls and get her onto the subject of baking. And she's smart, she figured us out pretty quick. Please, Christophe! You don't understand! After this we'll be free! No one will question my presence at your house because I have a wife. No one will ask her questions about why she spends so much time with that Irish seamstress because she'll be married. This is a way out for both Beatrice and myself." He pleaded with the man to understand, eyes tearful and pretty face distressed.

"Are you out of your mind, I ask again!? Marriage ees not freedom, eet ees slavery!" He bellowed, gesturing emphatically.

Gregory's tactics changed abruptly as his eyes narrowed. "So, if it were allowed, you would not marry me?" He asked, lacing his suspicious tone with hurt.

"I deed not say zat, Gregory. I love you, but women are eveel creatures." He explained, like a parent explaining to their child why they shouldn't say naughty words.

Gregory just shook his head and laughed. "Christophe, for an intimidating man you are quite awfully cute." He giggled.

"I am not cute." He frowned, trying his best not to let it turn into a pout.

"Fine then, love. You aren't cute. But you are wrong. While most women are exactly as you describe them, lesbians are completely different. They have no desire to control a man because they have no desire to _have a man_." He explained. "Besides, you'll see for yourself because I _will_ be introducing you to Beatrice and perhaps her lover Mary if she would like to come as well, and you_ will _be polite to both of them." He said sternly.

"And what weel you do eef I am not." The taller man sneered. "What could you possibly do to me?"

"Well I could always leave you alone just as foreplay was getting really good with a raging erection to take care of all by yourself. I could also deny you my body for an indefinite period of time." He shrugged casually.

Christophe growled but held out his hand so they could shake on it. "Fine, I weel meet your future wife and 'er mistress and I weel try to be polite…but I weel not like eet and you owe me sex immediately afterwards."

Gregory giggled and pecked him on the lips. "Good boy." He said, taking his hand and shaking it. "You have a deal."

* * *

Wow…I rarely get over a thousand words into one scene unless there's a lemon and it's a oneshot. But there you go, over a thousand words and only one scene. It's also very very very very very very late! =D


	6. Chapter 6

Yay! Another Chapter! =D

* * *

Christophe grumbled to himself as he fiddled with the jacket Gregory had insisted he wear. Why he couldn't just wear a shirt and pants was beyond him. It wasn't like he was low class, but did that mean that he had to dress like one of those stiff upper crust assholes? No!

Gregory giggled and kissed him on the cheek, which earned him a love tap on the bum which in turn earned Christophe a glare. "What? Why are you lookeeng at me like zat?" He asked, incredulous.

"You're completely incorrigible." Gregory huffed, looking oh so adorably kissable when he pouted. The taller man chuckled and leaned down to peck him on the lips.

"You know you love eet." He teased, wrapping his arms around the blonde.

"I bloody well do not!" He protested, quickly being silenced by a pair of lips over his own.

"Are you goeeng to continue to argue?" He grinned.

"Well if you're going to kiss me every time I do then I just might." Gregory grinned back. Christophe chuckled and shook his head. "No time for zat, we 'ave to go meet ze lesbian beetches."

"Christophe, I would prefer it if you didn't talk about them like that. They're perfectly nice young women, I'm sure. I don't know about Miss Mary, but Beatrice is certainly interesting."

"You only say zat because you 'ave to marry ze beetch, wheech I do _not_ like, by ze way." He glowered at the blonde, letting him know exactly what he really thought of the whole idea. Just because it made sense doesn't mean he had to like it.

"I know you don't, love. But this is just the way it has to be. And who knows? Maybe you and Mary will get on well enough that you can at least stand to live together and pretend to be married as well."

"Oh 'ell no! You are not tryeeng to fob me off on some woman, are you!?" He asked, scandalized. Was Gregory secretly some kind of match maker from hell?

"Of course not, dearest. But you have to admit it would be awfully convenient for all of us. That way the two of them could shack up at one house on the pretense of doing girly things and we could be at the other pretending to have a drink and a game of cards while our wives visit." He reasoned.

"All of zees ees irrelevant because ze girl ees eensufferable and I 'ate 'er." He sniffed regally.

"You've never even met the girl!" Gregory cried, frustrated with his pig-headed lover.

"She ees a woman, so I automatically 'ate 'er." He shrugged, merely stating the fact.

"At least give her the benefit of the doubt." Gregory pleaded, his bottom lip sticking out in a way that made Christophe want to kiss the pout away. His blue eyes were so wide and hurt looking that he couldn't help but admit defeat.

"Fine, but you owe me beeg." He smirked, inclining his head towards the bed.

Gregory caught on and met him smirk for smirk, licking his lips and letting his eyelids droop to half-mast, his voice low and sultry. "Oh don't worry, lover, I'll make it well worth your while."

And with that they shared one last kiss before hopping into Christophe's car to pick up the women.

* * *

Mary paced back and forth through the foyer of Beatrice's home, shaking her head in anger and indignation. "I can't believe you're doing this to me, Bea! After all we've been through you're getting married?" He growled, looking as if she wanted to jump her lover, and not in a good way.

"I've explained to you time and time again, Mary, it's just pretend. Think of it as a game. Gregory and I are playing house and our parents are watching on and saying 'Oh look, how cute!' But when our parents aren't looking we could care less about the game so I play with my doll and Gregory plays with his toy soldier." She smirked and took her 'doll' by the waist, pulling the redhead into her lap.

"I still don't like it! And this other man, I've heard his name before and I don't like it. Something seems fishy about him." She pouted, more indignant that she had to share Beatrice even in name.

"Christophe…well I'm not going to say he's a pleasant man, but he's…well no he's not exactly sociable either. I'd say he tops off at tolerable when he tries to be. But you have to remember that he hates women as much as you do men." She remarked, thinking about how well those two would get along if not for that one key factor.

"And he's a bloody frog! You know how I hate the French!" He cried. It wasn't really true, but it seemed to be a good reason to hate the man that wasn't fighting hard enough for his own lover that she was now losing her own.

"Stop being so difficult, Mary. At least try to be nice to the poor bugger. He's in the same boat you are." Beatrice was pleased that that seemed to strike a chord within the Irish girl.

"Oh that poor dear!" She said, tearing up a bit. "I bet he's just torn up inside and my insulting him won't help the matter at all! That poor, lost, little lamb." She blinked away the tears from her expressive green eyes and turned her melancholy gaze on the other woman.

"Please don't let him hear you calling him that, I don't think he'd appreciate that." She said, stifling her chuckles and trying to quell the merry light dancing in her eyes.

"Oh poo on you, Bea. I'm sure that poor sweet dear just wants a hug!" She said, putting her hands on her hips and giving her lover a defiant glare.

Beatrice just smiled and nuzzled the other woman, making her giggle. "You can try and hug Christophe if you want and I'll protect you when he tries to kill you."

"Oh you!" She pouted, flapping the folds of her skirt at her lover. She turned as a knock came at the door. "I'll get it!" She cried, scurrying to the door and opening it with a bright smile. She immediately threw her arms around the first person she saw, a tall dark-haired man who looked like he would rather be somewhere else.

Christophe twitched, startled but not wanting to harm the girl. He may hate women and be a downright scoundrel, but even he knew not to hit women. "Gregory, she ees 'ugeeng me, what do I do?" He whispered out of the side of his mouth to the blonde.

"Hug her back, she'll stop soon enough." He said between giggles. Christophe looked at him like he was crazy but hugged the girl anyways, looking uncomfortable.

Mary squealed and pecked his cheek before turning to Gregory and doing the same. "Oh it's so nice to meet you both!" She grinned, running into the other room and dragging Bea out before leading the way to Gregory's car and hopping in the back.

Gregory chuckled and shook his head, getting into the car and waiting for Christophe to unfreeze himself from the hug-induced shock before driving off for the picnic grounds.

* * *

Bea laid out the blanket while Christophe got the things out of the basket. How he had been stuck with this duty he had no idea, but here he was and he had no clue how to get out of it without Gregory being mad at him for being rude to the girls. So he laid the food and lemonade pitcher on the blanket and they all sat down to eat.

"So, Christophe. I know Gregory's family owns a bakery, but what is it you do?" Beatrice asked, resting her chin on her entwined fingers and staring at him in an unsettling way.

Christophe was unfazed by her intimidation tricks, in fact he met her gaze with one of his own. She smiled and waited for his answer.

"I am a student." Was all he said, quirking a smile.

"Where?"

"Oxford."

"What do you study?"

"Medicine."

Beatrice seemed to be appeased for now, but something told Christophe that wasn't the last of her questions. Gregory and Mary seemed to have missed the conversation because Mary was chatting away with the blonde man.

"Eat." Christophe said simply, commanding them in that one word to shut up and get this over with. Gregory and Mary complied happily, chatting about this and that between mouthfuls. Beatrice and Christophe were much more subdued, eating without a word and finishing quickly.

When everyone was finally finished and sipping their lemonade Beatrice brought up something that she had been thinking up ever since she had caught Gregory and Christophe on the porch and struck the deal with Gregory.

"I don't mean to sound like a meddlesome matchmaker, but I believe it would be beneficial to us all if Christophe and Mary were to make the same arrangement as Gregory and I." She said casually.

She let the idea sink in for a moment as they were all dumbstruck and silent. Just as she was about to make her argument, Gregory spoke up.

"I said the same thing to you this morning, Christophe dear." He said, smiling at the Frenchman innocently. This seemed to wake him from his stupor as he growled.

"No."

"Why not?" This question came from a very hurt looking Mary. She didn't necessarily want to be married to him either, but she hated to think that there was something horribly wrong with her that made him not want to be her husband.

Christophe took one look at the girl, wide green eyes looking on the verge of tears, and broke down. His shoulders slumped and he groaned, covering his hands with his face.

"Fine! Fine! I weel do eet, sheet!"

Mary immediately perked up and flung her arms around him. "Oh Christophe! You won't even know I'm there! Thank you thank you thank you!" She giggled.

Christophe just glared at nothing in particular as they loaded up and took the girls back home, bidding the hyperactive Mary and more reserved Beatrice goodbye in the most terse way he could think of.

Gregory just chuckled and shook his head. "Looks like we're both in trouble now."

"At least eet ees not a real marriage. And muzzer weel be _zreeled_." He said sarcastically.

Gregory just led him into the house and kissed him once the door was shut. "You'll see. It won't be that bad."

Christophe wasn't sure he believed him.

* * *

I'm sorry it's been so long! HOMG I'm so flaky with chapter fics T-T


	7. Chapter 7

Really short crappy chapter to tide you over until I figure out where to go from here. Ideas are appreciated!

* * *

A few months later Christophe graduated from medical school with honors, hospitals and private practices immediately clamoring from his attention. He took a job at one of the more prestigious practices and offered his free time that wasn't spent with Gregory at a small clinic for the poor.

A few weeks after he and Mary were married, followed closely by Beatrice and Gregory. To the rest of the world they were like any other newly weds, smiling at each other, besotted, and whispering and giggling to each other at parties.

As soon as they were out of public eye they rarely saw each other. They were far too busy switching off partners. Unknown to others the house where Mary and Christophe were supposed to be inhabiting was, in fact, the residence of Christophe and Gregory while Mary and Beatrice lived in Gregory's house.

It was one of the few days between his time at the office and volunteering at the clinic that he had any time to be with Gregory.

Gregory was waiting patiently on the couch in the sitting room when Christophe came in, eyes darting around and looking dodgy.

"Christophe what did you-" He was cut off by a soft coo coming from Christophe's coat. "Christophe…is that…a _baby_!?" He asked incredulously. What was Christophe doing coming home with a baby?

"N-no." He squeaked, trying to hurry past Gregory. He frowned and followed him, yanking off the coat to reveal a tiny infant cradled in the crook of Christophe's arm.

"Christophe, love, what are you doing with a baby?" He asked sternly.

"I stole eet from ze clineec." He answered with a sheepish grin.

"Christophe! You can't just go around stealing babies! Where are the poor dear's parents, won't they miss the little lamb?" He asked, taking the baby and cooing to it. Now that he really got a look at it, the infant was really adorable. He could see why the secretly soft Doctor had smuggled it away.

"She does not 'ave parents." He said, tickling her as she wiggles and laughed. "'Er muzzar came to ze clineec weez a fever and died yesterday. Zey were goeeng to geeve ze poor girl to ze orphanage and I could not let zat 'appen!" He said, taking the baby back and cuddling her to him.

"Christophe, you can't just take a baby!" He said again, though his resolve was starting to waver as he watched how the man interacted with the baby.

"Why not! No one else was goeeng to take 'er and she does not deserve to rot een an orphanage." He said, cuddling her protectively to his chest.

"Because you just can't. What would you do with a baby anyways?" He asked, heart melting. He had to get Christophe to take her back soon or he would end up giving in and letting him keep the girl.

"I would raise 'er myself. Of course, you are welcome to be 'er maman." He said, pleading jade eyes turned on him in the most hopeful puppydog look. He groaned and shook his head.

"You are going to be the death of me, Christophe." He sighed, shaking his head. "I'll call mother and see about getting my baby things. She'll at least need a crib."

"Oh merci beaucoup, Gregory! You weel not be sorry, we weel be really very good, I promeese!" He exclaimed, snuggling the little girl.

They were in for a long 18 years.

* * *

"No! Absolutely not!" Mary growled, looking like she wanted to punch her husband.

"But Mary! 'Ow else are we goeeng to explain ze sudden presence of a baby!?" He cried, pleading with her. He had tried forcing her, but it had ended in a fistfight where neither had emerged victorious because they had been pulled apart. So now he had to resort to how normal husbands get their wives to do something: begging.

"I am not going to pretend that I've been pregnant! We've only been pretend married for a few months, people will do the math! I will not have people talking about me because of some guttersnipe you rescued from the clinic." He growled.

Christophe was dismayed. "You really care more about your reputation zan a 'elpless _enfant_?" He whispered, horrified. Beatrice look uncomfortable, looking at her lover like she'd grown a second head.

"Christophe's right, Mary. That's awful of you." She agreed, Gregory nodding. None of them could believe how horrible Mary was being, and all to a poor baby who had nowhere else to go.

Mary looked around, not wanting to give ground but knowing she was cornered. She glared hard at the baby, who just cooed at her in response. She snarled out a reluctant "Fine." And left the room in a tiff.

"What ze fuck ees wrong weez zat woman! She cares more about 'erself and what ozzar people zeenk zan a baby. 'Ow do you fuckeeng stand 'er?" He asked Beatrice, who shrugged.

"She may be in a tizzy now, but there's a reason I love her. She'll come around eventually, especially once the gossipers find something else to talk about." She said calmly, wanting to go after her lover but not wanting to get in the way of her temper and just make it worse.

* * *

Oh wow…this worked out so much better in my head, but there was really nothing else to do with it. I'm lucky I got this much out of it. This was a really crappy chapter, but it's basically filler until I work out what else I'm going to do and how I'm going to end it.


End file.
